Dubious Relations
by The Elipsical of Loser Authors
Summary: He asked me why don't we dress as stealth ninjas then and wear black ski masks. I spazzed out. An amusing fic documenting the developing relationship of Carmela and Ronan as they attempt to hook up our beloved Kit and Nita on the Powers Orders.
1. Peeing of the Pants

"Carmela, could you _please_ clean up a bit? Nita's coming over and it would be positively wonderful to be able to walk on the floor." Kit says. Not 'Good morning, Carmela!' or 'How are you, sister dearest?' or even 'What a wonderful morning, 'Mela.' Not, I get stuck with Kit's first complaint of the morning. The dirty floor.

Now, I could say something nice to him. I already had a nice greeting on the tip of my tongue. But, at his lack of kindness and knowledge of a proper morning welcome, I decide to save it for another day.

"Why? You've never cared before." is all I reply, not taking my eyes off of the TV screen, which if full of The Speech, scrolling up and down with the things people have said to me. (Well, possibly not people…)

"I have cared, but then, we could actually see the floor, so it wasn't as big of a deal."

"Can't you just use your magic powers to float over it or something? Abracadabra?" I inquire with a rhetorical question. Kit though, can never be asked a rhetorical question, because he knows the answer to all of them. It may come with the whole wizard package.

"That would be wasting energy, which would speed up entropy and kill the universe." he replies. I smack a palm to my forehead.

"No! That was not to you! It was to my little brother!" I quickly say to the TV, which has one scrolling bar going mad with alien language that I have never heard, but would not care to find out what the insults meant. Apparently, I have just done the equivalent of flipping someone the finger with my hand-to-forehead smacking.

"'Mela, you could find a lost continent, fossils, or maybe even oil down in that pile of trash next to you!" Kit says.

"Well, we'll never know, because I'm not going to clean it up." I state bluntly. "If you want the house clean, you can do it yourself." I hate cleaning with a passion. My parents could never get me to clean my room when I was younger, and Kit won't now.

"Ahhhrrgg!" I can tell that Kit is making a face. He always does that when he's mad. And then, he stomps off into another room to steam.

"I'm going to get breakfast." he announces, and I hear footsteps to another room, probably the kitchen.

"Besides, it's not all my fault! That tangle of game controllers? Those crumpled up balls of spells you were working on? And that bowl of ice cream remains with the spoon? Which, I might add, will not remove itself from the bowl it's so old. All of that? It's yours!" I call to him. I hear a distant-sounding _smack_, which I assume is the sound of his hand hitting his face. I smile to myself and turn back to the TV, where I am having much more fun talking to the aliens on here. Seriously, half of them know more about fashion than the people on Earth here, and Kit could take a few pointers from some Naelau any day!

"Carmela, stop harassing your brother and come eat some breakfast!" Mama says to me. I sigh and tell six of the scrolling speech columns that I'm going to eat breakfast, and the other two that I have to leave for a bit. If I told them I was going to eat, they would come to my planet and tear my head off for not getting my nutrients from the elements like I _should _be doing.

"Pancakes? Hooray!" I bound into the room, my slippers, worn flat from years of overuse slapping loudly on the linoleum floor.

"Carmela, you really should help your brother clean up." Popi says. "What's wrong with helping your younger brother?"

"The whole 'cleaning' part. Seriously, you all know how much I loathe it." I inform them, cutting into my pancake. "Besides, why does Nita have to come here? It's not like I don't like her. But she has a house too, ya know."

"Dairine and Roshaun are working on something, and I don't want to be around there when they start flirting." Kit tells me. Mama and Popi seem fine with this concept. I gag and choke to death a little on my piece of pancake and almost ingest my fork in the process.

"It's nice that Dairine has found a guy." Mama says calmly. Popi nods and flips a page in his newspaper.

"Roshaun and Dairine? Flirting? I'm sorry, but that just isn't possible!" I wheeze out. Kit smiles wryly.

"It is. They start out all normal, and then something goes wrong, and they begin arguing. And they get louder and louder until someone's ears start to bleed. They aren't even paying attention to what's going on around them. And personally, I like to keep my ears blood-free." Kit says. I am still trying to wrap my brain around this concept that Dairine and Roshaun _flirt_. As in _F-L-I-R-T_.

"Are you sure it's flirting?" I ask cautiously. Kit gives me another look.

"Dairine has began learning a new special; Solar Dynamics, along with her computers and technology. If Roshaun is becoming that influential, I would say it's flirting. Would you like to go over there and see for yourself when I bring Nita home?" he asks. I nod without hesitation.

"But really, why can't you just clean the house yourself? Can't you just put it all into that little black hole-type thing you carry around with you? It would be so much easier, and space-efficient too." I suggest, then stop at the look on Kit's face. He sighs heavily, suggesting that I have the mind of a three-year-old and that he's going to have to give me the talk about Entropy and wasting the Energy.

For his information, it's four and a half, not three. I took a quiz in _Cosmo_.

I also take pride in the small pun I made. Black hole thing, and space-efficient.

I should do stand-up comedy.

"Alright, fine, I'll do it." I tell him, pointing my fork, laiden with a piece of pancake, dripping syrup, at him. "But I'm not going to like it. And, neither will you." I mention as an afterthought. I watch his face go from smug to fearful in seconds after I said those four fateful words. Personally, I can't say that I blame him. Anybody who's sister is like me would probably just about pee their pants if they heard that too.

"I don't want to have to go to the hospital this time. You kids keep it minuscule." Mama says. I look over at her with my adorable, innocent face that nobody can say no to. Except Kit, but he has no soul that I know of so far.

"Mama, everything will be under control, I assure you." I tell her. Popi snorts behind the paper in what can only be a muffled laugh. Kit laughs at this, and I pretend not to hear it.

"In fact, we'll start right now, won't we, Brother Dearest?" I smile over at Kit, who looks forlornly at his plate and lake of syrup.

"But I wanted another pancake…" he whines as I drag him out of the room.

"Come on, 'Mela! Why do you have to be like this all the time?" Kit asks while I plop him down on the couch and point to the mess. I don't answer this, because he would probably do something horrible to me if I told him.

That, or pee his pants. At this point, either is a fair option.

"Clean." I state bluntly, pointing my finger to the corner beholding the bookshelf. Kit looks over at it, then back at me.

"The bookshelf says that it isn't nice to point." he informs me. I roll my eyes.

"Just clean it." I say, then begin work on my own little corner in front of the TV, where I sift through days' worth of paper plates, crumpled papers, and a broken pencil and sock or two. Sadly, there are no fossils or oil. I could have made a fortune out of those.

"So you never said what you and your girlfriend were going to be working on." I peek over my shoulder at the back of my baby brother. He has gone rigid, and his shoulders are stiff.

"Girl friend, not girlfriend." he seethes. I smirk and lean against the TV set.

"Girlfriend, girl friend, whatever." I say. He whips around to glare at me, and I see that his face has turned bright red.

"Awww, is little Kitty blushing?" I coo, using the nickname he hates so very dearly. He manages to make his scowl deepen to a glare.

A death glare from Kit Rodriguez. I should really record this Kodak Moment in my diary.

"Would you just get back to cleaning?" he growls. I smile that all-knowing smile at him.

"Sure, baby brother." I say, then turn back to my cleaning. For some reason, the work doesn't seem so much as a chore today.

"We're fixing one of the moons on Jupiter. Some of the life forms are having trouble with the atmosphere." Kit says quietly, to answer my question from earlier.

"Ah. So are you two going to be working in your room for privacy or out here so we can monitor you and intervene if things get to serious?" I ask. Kit lets out a cry, similar to Charlie Brown's 'AAAAHHHHUUUGHH!!!,' throws his hands in the air, and stomps up the stairs to his room, muttering angrily to himself.

"Carmela, I thought you said that everything would be fine." Mama calls from the kitchen. I come striding in and sit down at my place at the table.

"It is, I assure you." I say, plopping another pancake down on my plate. Mama and Popi both raise an eyebrow at me, but I continue eating and pretend not to notice.

Just then, our TV starts to beep incessantly. The three of us look up from our breakfast and look at the doorway to the living room, none caring to waste the energy to get up and check on what is happening to our beloved TV.

"I'M NOT GOING TO FIX IT!" Kit hollers down before any of us has a change to yell his name. Of course, my parents' next reliable source is me. I groan and stand up from the table.

"Fine, fine." I say to them before they can ask. This is simply because I will be more inclined to say no if they do ask, which could result in a grounding or a guilt trip, neither of which I am fond of.

I walk into the room, and the first thing I notice is that the TV appears to be fine, all but for the flashing red screen that says _URGENT! URGENT!_ flashing across it. I wander over and press the menu button on the set to open the message.

'Tell Kit that I'll be transisting into his room in about thirty seconds' it says. It has no name, but the sent address says that it's from Ireland, Earth.

"Kit!" I yell up the stairs. "There's a kid-" I don't have a chance to get the rest out.

"YAAAHHHH!!!!!" is what I hear from the room up the stairs and to the right, soon followed by a "Geez, loud much? I would prefer to keep my hearing, thanks." in an Irish accent, much like a voice I remember from a little bit ago.

"Well, maybe I wouldn't have yelled so loud if you hadn't transited right onto my lap!" Kit yells. There is some scuffling, and then-

"CARMELA!" Kit screams. I turn and run into my room, locking the door and placing a chair in front of it for good measure.

Today is not Kit's best day ever, and I certainly don't want to be around when he blows up at someone. Especially when that someone is most likely going to be me.

**A/N: Muffin Lady 0o**

**Leave it to us to make the least-used pairing we can find for YW.**

**Okay, so here's where I might explain. Each of my buddies and myself made an account so we could each write a chapter in a story like this. They voted on me to start (Why me, I have no idea) so I did. None of us are discussing plot plans, so we each post a chapter in the way we want it to keep going. So the plot with twist and turn every which way without our knowing consent. **

**I hope it turns out wonderfully!**


	2. Awkward Misconception

**Chapter Two (By Polka-dotted-pengiun number two)**

**I'm ashamed to say that, due to pointless oneshots, I've gotten into the habit of portraying Kit as the loveable idiot. Sorry to anyone who thinks he possesses common sense.  
**

"CARMELA!" Kit shrieks again.

I unlock my door and peer cautiously out.

"…Kit?" I ask.

"HELP!" He wails.

There is an inordinate amount of grunting coming from his room.

"…Why?" I ask, wondering if he's going to try to hurt me in any sort of way if I do decide to help him.

I wouldn't put it past him.

Talk about ungrateful, would you?

"Is there someone out there?" the vaguely familiar voice of Foreign Boy calls. If I'm gonna risk my life for that kid, he had better be cute or I'm gonna be more than a little ticked.

I walk down to the hall to open his door and see what all the fuss is about.

I immediately slam it and pray that I didn't just see what I thought I saw.

I now know why parents always teach their children to knock first.

To keep them from having to see their younger siblings in compromising positions.

I have now resolved to always listen to my Mama.

…Except for when she says to eat my vegetables.

Those are icky.

"Carmela, what the heck?!"

"Dude, I respect your lifestyle choice and all, but you could have just _told _me instead of showing."

"You idiot!" Foreign Boy Who's Name Still Escapes Me, Though I Know I've Heard His Voice Before shouts.

I concur.

I like him already.

If only he weren't in dubious relations with my brother.

Well, we'll just have to fix that, or poor Nita's gonna be heartbroken.

Kit groans in annoyance at Foreign Boy.

"Well, I didn't exactly call you up and say 'Hey, why don't you come and knock over my chair, we can be smashed underneath it in obscene ways and just have a grand old time' now did I?!"

Whoa, too much information there!

"How was _I _supposed to know I'd land on you?!" Foreign Boy exclaims.

Alrighty then, please consider the innocent and _stop there._

"Hark," Kit scoffs, his voice sounding muffled, "King Apathetic showing some sort of emotion other than self pity! Let us call the court scribe to document this moment, for I don't think it will ever occur again!"

"If I didn't even know there was a chair there, how was I supposed to know it would flip?"

"If we could keep those minute details to a minimum, I would most _dearly_ appreciate it," I call.

"Is there some one out there?" Foreign Boy asks.

"No," Kit says sarcastically, I can just tell he's rolling his eyes, "That would be my butt, which suddenly acquired the ability to speak. It says you're arrogant and ugly."

"Well, seeing as it's smashed against my face…"

EW!

"Again with the minute details!" I cry.

"Help us!" Kit wails, as if he were just realizing I was there.

I brace myself, preparing to see things I'd really rather not see, and open the door to help my pathetic little brother.

He'd better appreciate this.

Kit's, rather heavy I must say, desk chair is flipped and is currently lying on its side, smashing the two teenage boys beneath it.

"Is that her?" asks Kit, from somewhere around Foreign Boy's elbow.

"I thought we'd already established that you're unusually large arse is crushing my face." Foreign Boy drones, his dark hair sticking out from underneath the arm of the chair. "One would think it rather hard to _see_."

Kit glared.

Well, I think he did, I can only really see one eye around Foreign Boy's shoe.

"Are you saying I have a big butt?!" he exclaims, "That's just rude!"

"Wow, and America's Finest actually gets it. Can I get an applause?"

Dude, I'm all for the dry humor, but we can't be using it on my brother like that!

"Guys, stop arguing like five year olds."

"Hey, _I_ am smart!" Kit protests, completely ignoring me. "I've got a 4.0 GPA!"

He's very sensitive about his grades. Probably too many people told him they couldn't believe he got those marks. He does rather lack in the common sense department.

"I'm sure you do," Foreign Boy agrees sarcastically, I can see a tiny bit of his smirk around Kit's (admittedly large, Foreign Boy wasn't lying) behind.

"'Mela, can you please just get the chair off of us? I think I've lost thirty IQ points just sitting near him. "

"That's if you had that many to begin with," Foreign Boy mutters darkly.

"Now that was—"

"I thought you were just enjoying some time together after being apart for so long," I interrupt, smiling innocently.

I get to find out if they really are in dubious relations, and I get to irritate them even further.

Good job, Carmela.

I find nothing more amusing than testosterone-fueled boys arguing about stupid things.

"That's sick, Carmela," Kit groans as Foreign Boys shifts position.

"If I _did_ swing that way, I'd at least have the decency to pick someone better than _him_."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Kit protests.

My poor innocent brother, you never leave a door that wide open without expecting to be smacked full pelt in the face with it.

I thought I taught you better.

"Umm," says Foreign Boy.

Please, do go easy on him, he's still waiting for that anti-stupid operation.

"That I don't like you." he finishes, as if Kit were stupider than the toilet paper that clings possessively to the bottom of people's shoes in icky public restrooms.

"Good," Kit smiles.

I'll never understand that kid.

I walk over to lift the chair off of them and try to keep from gaping as they both immediately spring apart.

Foreign Boy is HOT!

Except for the whole gothic black thing going on. We'll have to do something about that.

"Thank you," Hot Boy smiles. I somehow get the feeling he doesn't do this often.

Kit, who was currently brushing himself off, looks up at the sound of Hot Boy's voice, and his eyes widen.

You know, like those cartoon character's eyes do when they see the train coming after them?

Yeah, that's what he looked like.

Kit shakes his head behind Hot Boy's back.

I grin.

'NO' he mouths.

I grin wider.

He moans and lets his head drop into his hands.

I ignore my stupid little brother and sling an arm around Hot Boy's shoulders.

"So, what are you doing here in the good ol' US of A?"

He picks my arm up and drops it off of him.

Well, then!

I don't believe I've ever had a guy do that to me before.

I try not to find it endearing, I can't afford to actually get a crush on the guy.

"I'm on errantry, and I greet you."

"Okie dokie, so, what are you doing here in the good ol' US of A?" I repeat.

A slightly puzzled expression crosses his features before they're wiped smooth, "I don't rightly know. I was sent to help a partnership. I think there's a new wizard around here or something that is having trouble meeting their counterpart. That's the only reason I can think of."

The door bell rang as I continue to be awed by Hot Boy's extreme Hotness.

Kit sprints down the stairs and we follow, on the off chance that it could be who Robert is supposed to be—

No, that's not it.

Ricky?

No, ummmm, I swear I know this kid's name!

Ah well, we follow on the off chance that it could be who Hot Boy is looking for.

We arrive as Kit is opening the door for a certain best friend of his.

Nita smiles at him, though in a rather worried manner. "Hey, you look rather beaten up."

He laughs, "Please, just don't ask, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Come on in."

He holds the door open and Nita steps in. Then she stops dead.

"_Ronan_?"

That's it!

I stare between the two of them as Kit, poor guy, stares determinedly at the ceiling, the constant mischievous light he usually glowed with abandoning him, leaving his eyes somehow darker.

"Nita," Ronan acknowledges.

I stare between Ronan, who looks no more surprised than he would be if he saw a classmate at Target. Nita, who still looks puzzled. And Kit, who looks rather like he'd thoroughly enjoy watching Ronan be castrated in a violent manor.

Dubious relations, indeed.

Just not in the way I'd first assumed.

Though on the plus side, I think we may have discovered Ronan's reason for being here.

Kit and Nita began to head up to Kit's disaster of a room and I turned to Ronan.

"So, about that _partnership," _I grin, "Are you positive it's a _new_ wizard, or just two oblivious old ones?"

**A/N- Well, thank you all for reading this crap, normally I'm much better with first person POV. Next up will be Unhappy Squirell, and then, either polka-dotted-penguin one, or our seventh grade buddy Morgan, who is much cooler than her brother. It even says so in his yearbook. Right next to my signature ironically enough...**

**_Muffin Lady 0o concurrs. And so does everyone else who happens to meet Morgan, on the off-chance they have met her older brother (In our grade) too._ **


	3. Now Deal with That!

**Chapter 3**

**A/N: This is indeed Unhappy Squirrel. I apologize for the fact that Polka-Dotted Penguin Two just HAD to spell that wrong. Also, this is in Ronan's point of view. Hope you like our story so far.**

---

It just figures that Nita would pop up right when _I_ was going to make sure Kit never got her...ever. I was just about to strangle that annoying boy who was getting in the way of my relationship with Nita, not that the ocean had anything to do with that either, nothing at all…

This girl, I think her name is Carmel, or something along those lines. Ah well, who cares? I sure as heck don't. The only person who catches my eyes is Nita. You know all those extremely stupid pick-up lines? Yeah, all of those are zooming through my head. I flush red and turn my face. Fortunately Nita does too. I am going to have to hug her for that.

_Nita, do you have a map, because I'm lost in your eyes._ Yeah, these stupid pick-up lines.

Kit and that one girl-whose-name-escapes-me-but-I'm-sure-I've-heard-before just stare at the two of us. We're turned the opposite direction equally as red, until... "Whoa, awkward silence," Kit interrupts, perfectly, I must add.

"Hey you, Irish boy! Why is your face so red? You look like a pathetically huge tomato. I don't like tomatoes, so quit looking like that!" That one girl shouts. I'm sure I've heard of her name, but it doesn't really matter with the fact that I'm probably never going to have to see her again, let alone speak to her. Then a thought occurred to me.

"MY NAME'S RONAN!" I shout at her. She just rolls her eyes and grins even wider. Kit begins looking amazingly jealous. I snort with laughter which brings Nita back to the present. She's beautiful, amazing, there's no way I could go queer.

An image flashes in my mind of Nita and me skipping through a park, until suddenly I pull her close and kiss…Ponch?

"EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWW!" I shout as Ponch jumps up licking me, destroying my daydream. It is obviously a daydream, because there is no way I will be caught dead skipping in public. I am much more manlier than that, sooo much more.

Nita coughs and mutters something about using the bathroom. Walking down the hall she slams a door and disappears from sight. That one girl walks up to me again, and puts her arm on my shoulder. "So, ever been to New York before?" she asks.

I shrug her arm off once again. She grins at me. It was almost as if, as if, she WAS HITTING ON ME!

"NNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" I shout. "Nita, Nita. I love Nita. Stay away from me, whoever you are! My heart is already taken!"

I look up from my self-induced panic attack, to see Nita. She is so cute when she's mad. Meaning, she's cute all the time. Of course that look on her face, means she heard. I am so dead.

"RONAN!" Here it comes. Her rant is beginning and I don't have earplugs. I'm going to be deaf. Ah, well, it doesn't matter, since I'm going to be six feet under once she's done ranting. Crap, I can't move. "YOU HAD BETTER HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR THAT! WHAT I'M PRAYING IS THAT I HEARD WRONG, BUT MY EARS HAVE BEEN FINE FOR AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER! YOU'LL DO BETTER WRITING YOUR WILL AND I HAD BETTER GET SOME MONEY OUT OF THIS!"

There may be a way I can save my butt, but currently my mind is blank. Yeah, just give me the pen and paper so I can get started on my will.

Kit snickers from behind the safety of his sister. I peek up and smirk. "This isn't over yet."

At this, he laughs harder and answers, "It never even started."

"I hate you," I mutter under my breath as Kit snorts.

---

Yeah, so obviously I'm stuck match-making the deplorable Kit with the dear sweet Nita. How I envy the Spanish kid... and hate him, you can never forget hate. I heard Kit saying "Eeeeeeeemmmmmooooooooo..." under his breath as I passed him in the hall yesterday.

I hate this. I'm stuck at _Kit's_ house, attempting to pair him up with a girl who can do waaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy better, like me, for example. Kit says I need to deflate my ego, but I don't see why he keeps repeating that, over and over and over and over and over again. Quite frankly, I'm getting sick of it.

I will win Nita over.

_No, you won't, you pessimistic lowlife, annoying little Irish twerp._

Hi, Nita. NITA?! She would insult me so? How dare she! I will shun her for life now. You just lost your hugging privileges. You will never be hugged by me again. NOW DEAL WITH THAT! THAT'S RIGHT GO SULK IN A CORNER!

Okay, my rant is over. Die, Nita, die. ...maybe not...

---

**A/N: Yeah, so this is why Nita and Ronan should never be together. If you're a fan of that pairing DEAL WITH IT! Bye now!**


	4. The Birthing of the Kaforkaloon

I grab a handfull of forks and head towards the dining room. Not only is it torture enough that I have to spend my days at Kit's house with his sister,(Who does not seem to want me out of her sight) but I have to sit through an entire dinner, with the attendance of every wizard Kit is friends with. This includes the infamous couple of Dairine and Roshaun, whom, I am told, are quite the masters at flirting.

Flirting. Ew.

"You're putting the forks on the wrong side." Carmela corrects me. She has volunteered to help me set the table, too.

Like I said, I'm never out of her sight. I'll bet she even set up a camera to watch me when I sleep and bathe.

Double ew.

"Distracted." I say, as if this one word can sum up every detail that has induced the Putting-of-the-Fork-on-the-Wrong-Side. We are quiet for a moment, each taken to our own thoughts.

"You're too serious." she notes. I don't answer, only grunt. She sighs.

"Lighten up. Life is a party, and you just brought the margarita!" she exclaims, throwing her dining ware down on the table with a metallic clatter, and striking a pose that looks eerily like the man on the front of a Captain Morgan label.

Well, I suppose she _did_ say margarita...

"I'm not a drinker." I state, putting another fork on the side of another plate, this time on the _right_ side.

"You're too literal." she states. Again, I don't answer. And, again, there is another silence. Only this time, she isn't staring at me. She's focusing on the silverware she has recently reclaimed to her hand.

"You know, it would be so much easier if there was one utensil that works for all." she says. "Like something to take the place of a fork and spoon."

"That's called a spork." I tell her. She waves a hand at me.

"Yeah, yeah, but what about a knife too?" she thinks a bit. "It could have a spork on one end, with a knife on the other!"

"Brilliant." I say. "So what will you call this invention of yours that will inevitably change the fate of the world as we know it?"

"Uhm..." Carmela stops setting the table or a moment and thinks. Hard.

"I got it!" she says suddenly, startling me so I drop a spoon onto the plate in front of me, loudly.

"The Kaforkaloon!" she says excitedly. I raise one eyebrow.

"Kaforkaloon?" I inquire. "Where does the 'L' come from?"

"It's going to be a really deep spork. Part ladle, really." she says. I smack a palm to my forehead and slump into the nearest chair with a moan.

"No. Just, no." I say. Carmela doesn't seem the least bit fazed. In fact, she just keeps on grinning and talking about how much money people will save on buying only one utensil per person and how she could become a millionaire and take over the world.

"First the kitchen, then the block, then the world shall be mine!" she crows. Kit chooses this moment to walk in with a large plate of foil with steam smoking out of the sides not securely folded over the edges. The smell makes me loopy for a moment upon his passing.

"Carmela, you're going to scare the guests. See? Poor Irish Boy is cowering in his chair." Kit nods his head at me before placing the plate in the center of the table. Despite my loopyness at the smell, I have enough sense to glare.

"It's Ronan." I growl. Why is it impossible to get my name right? "Shall we say it all together now?"

"Sorry Emo Kid." Kit says, ducks my fist, and zips out of the room, laughing. I plop my bum down in the chair again, and look sideways at the plate covered in foil. Carmela is looking the other way...

It couldn't hurt... nobody would know...

It's not like they would miss it...

"Out of the chicken, nino." says Kit's mother from the next room over. My hand freezes in mid foil-lift and I am shocked. The woman can't even see me!

"Sixth sense." Carmela says from behind a _Cosmo_ magazine. "Mama would know if you were getting into her food from three houses down. I've seen her do it before."

She says this as if this is the most normal thing life could offer.

Though, she also has a TV that doubles as an alien internet connection of sorts, a dog that asks the meaning of life, and lives with Kit.

This could possibly, very well, be normal.

"According to this, you have no love life, you're going to die at a young age, and you are very creative when others are not around." Carmela informs me. In my head, I don't want to know, but I stupidly ask anyways.

"According to what?" I ask. Carmela eyes me over the top of her _Cosmo_ and gives me a look that suggests I have just insulted the Holiest of Holy.

"_Cosmo,_ stupid!" she hisses, like someone might hear. Someone unpleasant.

Oh, the horrors of _People_ magazine. Of course, it could be _Seventeen_ too.

"So this magazine knows me inside and out?" I ask out of spite. It's a magazine!

"_Life and Times of Ronan: Emo Irish Boy."_ Kit walks in, sets another steaming plate of food on the table, and runs his hands through the air as if this title will one day appear on Broadway, staring into the distance like he can just imagine it.

"Ha, you're clever." I glare this time with full force. If it were a laser, it would be on _Roasting_ by now.

"I do what I can." Kit smiles broadly and saunters out of the room. Carmela moves herself to a seat next to mine.

"Yes, because _Cosmo_ has an article about Ronan the Great. No, it's a quiz, stupid." She lays the magazine flat on the table and points to a page.

"_What is His Ultimate Inner Person?"_ I read aloud. "Honestly, Carmela." I roll my eyes. Carmela looks highly offended.

"You do not _roll your eyes_ at _Cosmo!"_ she gasps. "_Cosmo_ is holy! _Cosmo_ is GOD!" She picks up her magazine and moves down the table from me, crosses one leg over the other, and spares a moment to shoot me a stare before hiding her face behind the magazine once more.

"Ronan, would you come help me with the food, _chico?"_ Kit's mother calls from the kitchen to me. I sigh and pull myself up and walk into the kitchen.

I am overwhelmed my the mixture of smells and have to steady myself in the doorway. Mashed potatoes, carrots, spices and mixtures, and some more chicken in the oven cooking.

"Come on, take these and put them on the table." I don't have another second to check out the many foods in various spots around the kitchen. A bowl of the mashed potatoes is shoved into my hands and I am spun around and pushed gently out of the kitchen, with a request to come back and get more.

"Put them there." Kit instructs of me, gesturing with his head, since his arms are full of more food. I set down the bowl, and the second I do, the doorbell rings.

"Can you get that?" Kit asks. For once, I'm slightly compelled to comply, seeing as he asked and not commanded. Yet, this isn't my house.

"But-"

"Baby." Carmela interrupts before I can say anything. My eyes narrow.

"I'll go get the door then." I say boldly, and stride to the door. I hear noises behind it, like people are arguing.

Arguing and neither side giving in.

Somehow, my gut already knows.

I swing open the door, and Nita flings herself past me in a rush, letting out a loud, exasperated moan of relief.

"They would not shut up!" she says, thoroughly relived. I don't need to ask who she's talking about.

"If your sun isn't properly functioning, I say we need to go directly to the source and find out what's wrong first before we try anything too drastic!" Dairine says loudly. A tall boy with blonde hair walks in behind her, wearing long, baggy golden sweatpants and a t-shirt to his knees.

"We'll be waisting energy that we could otherwise use to actually _fix_ the problem!" he retorts.

"Oh yes, and using energy on a problem that doesn't exist in the first place it _such_ a better idea." Dairine says, crosses her arms, and stalks into the dining room to talk with Carmela.

"_Finally!"_ Nita throws her hands up into the air and falls to her knees in a symbol of praise. Had I not known her better, I would have sworn that she would tilt her head to the heavens and shout 'Glory Hallelujah I'm free at last!'

"They haven't shut up the whole way here! Silence is only a figment of the imagination in our house!" she says.

I don't doubt it.

"Dinner!" calls Kit's mother. I don't hesitate to run to the dining room and grab a seat. The smell of the food is overwhelming and I really believe that I am going to die of starvation if I don't get any of it soon.

"Wonderful dinner, Mrs. Rodriguez." Nita says with a smile, her mouth full of food. I can't even speak around the food I have in my mouth.

Best meal I have ever had

Ever.

"Why on earth would you mix your food like that?" Roshaun asks with disgust.

"It tastes good!" Try it!" Dairine urges, holding out a fork, laiden with mashed potatoes, carrots, peas and chicken.

"I prefer to keep my taste buds alive, thank you." Roshaun pushes the fork away.

"You baby, it's all going to the same place!"

"But it all tastes different on the way down!"

"But if it tastes _good,_ then there's nothing to worry about!"

"I'm not willing to take that risk. Excuse me when I say that you've been wrong before."

Obviously, Dairine and Roshaun are not having the same problem I am with keeping the entire plate of chicken out of my mouth.

Carmela has her jaw dropped in shock, a fork halfway to her mouth. Kit elbows her in the ribs.

"Told ya so." he whispers as the two continue fighting.

"I never thought I would live to see the day. Yet, here it is, right in front of me..." Carmela speaks slowly, in shock. "I need my camera!" She quickly dashes off into the unknown Pit of Horror that is her room to, undoubtedly, find a camera.

"Disturbing." I mention, without mentioning _what_ that disturbing thing actually is. Nita and Kit nod.

"Kodak Moment!" Carmela coos suddenly, snapping a picture of Dairine and Roshaun. "Pictures for the future wedding!"

"Wedding?" Roshaun asks. "What's that?" Dairine is bright red.

"We'll explain one day." Carmela says, then snaps another photo. Dairine glares this time, prepared. Carmela just smiles and puts the camera away, returning to the plate of food still warm on her plate.

How she could leave it, unoccupied, for that long amount of time is beyond me.

"Kit, I thought you told me your alien friends were coming to dinner." Kit's mother says. Kit looks as if he's just remembered something.

"They were... but Fillif is on Erranty and Sker'ret is filling in for the Station Master while he's away." Kit says. Kit's mother looks in pain.

"Kit, nino, I made all of this food because you said your friend could eat a bus and still be hungry!" she says, in the most whiny tone I have ever heard an adult use in my life.

And I've been around quite a few whiny adults.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Mama. Honest, I meant to." Kit says. He sounds shameful.

"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Rodriguez." I say.

"We'll help you with it." Dairine finishes. Were it not for the fact that I have something against Star Wars and Callahan women, I would have smiled. Instead, I tear the foil off the plate that is still full of chicken ad grab myself the biggest piece on the plate. Dairine sees it in my eyes, and I see it in hers; A challenge has been issued. The chicken will be devoured, and I'll be damned if she gets more of that delicious, scrumptious, mouth-watering chicken than I do.

Carmela takes this opportunity to snap a picture of us, glaring at each other over a mountainous plate of chicken. The flash is like a gunshot, and we are off.

Piece after piece go into our stomachs, and bone after bone land on our plate. Everyone is looking at us in varying mixtures of shock, disgust, amusement, horror, and -in Kit's mother's case- triumph and pride. Everyone, that is, except Roshaun, who is looking at me in what I take as a mixture of jealousy and contempt. If I were him, I suppose I would be doing the same thing he is. This is his equivalent to flirting.

Hey, if the only girl I ever argued with over innocent little nothings and humongous, large somethings started up in a Fight for the Chicken Till Death do we Stop, I would feel threatened too if it were not against me, but against a much older, much better-looking guy.

Of course, I am the much older, much better looking, so I have nothing to worry about.

"One of you is going to throw up, and I am going to laugh." Carmela says, her chin resting in her hand as she stares at us intently. I feel my waistband getting tight, but there is no way I am going to stop now.

"Dairine, Daddy isn't going to like you coming home to be sick all over the place." Nita says. Roshaun jumps on the board when he sees the opportunity.

"Dairine, Nita is right. We should head home." he says. Dairine whips around to face him.

"Roshaun, I am trying to win here. Please, leave me be to throw up on my own sweet time?" she asks harshly, then rips another chunk out of the chicken.

--

Five minutes and two very large stomachs later, I sit back in the chair and pat my stomach contentedly. The chicken is completely gone, as is most of the mashed potatoes and other foods.

"Well, I'm certainly glad that you two loved my cooking." Mrs. Rodriguez says, "But it's about time for you to be heading home." she relieves the groaning table of its dishes and brings them the to the kitchen.

"Mama, we may need a wheelbarrow to get Dairine home." Kit calls. Nita and Roshaun laugh, and Dairine scowls. Personally, I'm glad that I don't have far to go.

Up the stairs.

Ah, 'tis a glorious stroll, why doth thee endeth so soon, my love?

Okay, that was only a slight bit creepy.

"It's okay, we can transit this time."Nita firmly suggests this time. "I don't want to listen to another of your arguments without my CD player."

"Nita, you whiner." Dairine accuses, standing from the table and teetering a little. Roshaun immediately holds out his hands to catch her, and I notice, though I seem to be the only one who does. Though, my thoughts are dampened by the sudden flash that can only belong to Carmela's camera. I look over at her and she flashes a sudden, evil smile that I know will one day be used upon me against my will.

Though, I must admit, it is a rather nice smile.

I mean, for a girl.

"Let's go." Dairine says, straightening up and heading out the door with Roshaun and Nita in tow. Nita spares a moment to pop her head back in the door and throw a two-fingered salute at Kit before departing.

"Have fun cleaning up Irish Boy puke tonight." she says, and is then gone.

"It's Ronan! Why is that so hard to remember?" I shout to nobody in particular before heading up to the guest bedroom and shutting the door behind me.

"And why are they all dead-set on watching me puke tonight?" I ask the ceiling when I fall to my bed that actually belongs to the Rodriguez family.

_'And why did I think Carmela had a nice smile?'_ My thoughts ring out to me in that haunting voice that sends chills down my spine and makes me question where I even remembered that from, and why such a thought emitting pure evil and horror has pierced my sacred, holy, god-like skull in the first place.

"The power of Christ compels you!" I say, flipping myself over and covering my head with a pillow.

Yet, the haunting thought doesn't leave me alone, and I'm stuck, laying there in the dark, with thoughts like this running through my head so I can't sleep.

It's going to be a long day tomorrow.

**Muffin Lady 0o**

**I guess the last part there doesn't really follow along with the whole 'Funny Story' thing. I can't really tell if this was a good chapter or not, but I realized that I'm getting better and better at first person PoV. If someone knows how to request categories to FF Authorities, either tell me or go request the movie 'Flushed Away' because I have a fic I want to add.**

**Sorry this was so late. First I couldn't load it on my floppy, and then my laptop crashed. I'm getting better at writing longer chapters/shots. Huzzah for me. **

**Review and smile, for the day hath been a good one, kind stranger. **I am not a stranger!-Brianne


	5. Hark the Herald Angels Sing

…**Wow, I'm really sorry about the wait on this. My only excuse is to blame swimming and the fact that I have **_**not**_** been in the best of spirits this week.**

**So enjoy, and be on the look out. I'm currently working on another oneshot of epic size, titled as of now "Really? It looks more like a potato". And a big Thank You to all who went and reviewed Death by Chocolate, I've got thirty five now and you should have _seen _me spazz.  
**

**Thank you!**

**-Polka-Dotted-Pengiun 2 (credit to Mitch for the death rant, which he used on me and Bailey)**

I vaguely recall Ronan muttering something about a 'long day tomorrow' yesterday and I'm going to have to agree.

Why?

Because I am in a library.

There is no worse place to accompany Ronan Nolan than a library.

It has been a long day indeed.

I look up from the cheesy romance that I'm researching and see Ronan being his typical butt-faced self.

"Ronan, if you don't stop that right now, so help me I'll take this book, tear the pages into little strips of pages, fashion them into a rope, tie the rope around your neck, shove you out the window of the bus on the way home, and watch calmly as you bleed to death."

The two floating chair legs hit the floor with a thunk. I grinned, satisfied.

"Thank you."

He gave a rare smile, "That has to be _the_ longest death threat I have ever heard. I commend you."

"I'm glad to know it was appreciated."

I went back to the horrible book, attempting to see any parallels in it which could possibly aid us in hitching _mi hermanito_ and Nita when I heard the sound of rushing air once more.

"Ronan!"

His eyes move, but his head doesn't as he concentrates on seeing how long he can keep a piece of that gorgeous hair suspended in air by blowing on it. Tilted back on _two legs_ of the _freaking chair._

I may just have to carry through the with whole page/rope/window threat.

"Yes, love?" he replies sarcastically, allowing the hair to flop across his face.

"Stop it." I answer simply. As I have done six times now.

"No." he answers simply. As he has done six times now.

"Why not?"

"Because, I have a right to play with my own hair and sit in my chair however I please."

"No, you do not."

"And why would that be?"

"Because it bugs me."

"Oh, terribly sorry." He tilts his chair back again, smirking.

"Butt face."

"Wow, I think that wonderfully mature insult nearly just moved me to tears."

I sigh. Me and my buddy Ronan have had many conversations about a wide variety of topics, the proper protocol for consuming excessive amounts of pie being one of them. But we've also discussed pet-peeves, and I must say, nothing irks me more than people tilting back in their chairs and the thwap it makes when said bum holding device is returned to its natural position on the floor.

Ronan knows this.

And I have this sinking feeling he's exploiting it.

"I honestly don't see the big deal," he comments, allowing the hair to flop once more.

"Me neither," I smile innocently, "Why can't you just be nice and leave your chair on the floor as it was made to be?"

"Oh you're funny."

"I rather thought so." I grin, but the grin quickly melts into the Stare and Frown of the century.

"And besides," I Stare and Glare, "You're cheating."

He looks up and cocks and eyebrow—

He can do that?!

Why did I not know this!

Maybe he can teach me!

For all my life, I am slightly ashamed to say, I haven't been able to raise one eyebrow independently of the other. It has been a source of annoyment too, when Kit does it with a smirk to win an argument. I have finally just conceded that I'm facially inept and gone on with life, but maybe Ronan will find a nice kind streak within his emo soul and teach me.

If not, hey, I can do the fun little three leaf clove with my tongue, so it's all good.

"And how, pray tell, am I cheating at blowing on a piece of hair." He asks.

I try to raise an eyebrow back at him, but I'm assuming it was a failing mission seeing as he stifles a quick laugh.

You know, I don't think I've ever heard him laugh out of genuine amusement.

"Because, there's no way you have that vast of a lung capacity. Honestly, I timed you."

The corner of his mouth turns up into a slightly evil smirk.

I grin back at him pleasantly.

He leans his chair back.

I smack a piece of gum.

We glare.

He rubs his nose.

I scratch an itch on my finger.

He cocks an eyebrow.

I open my mouth and show him my fun three leaf clover tongue.

"Very nice," he comments.

"I rather thought so."

"Is it on?" he asks.

"Oh, it's on."

We stare at my watch until the seconds hand hits the top.

I smack my hand on the table and immediately our chairs are back and strands of hair in the air.

And I don't intend to loose as I ignore the people, who are probably staring at us funny as we competitively levitate hair, and glare at him over my nose.

-----

I hold the door open for Nita as we enter the library, but am puzzled as she stops dead.

"What?"

She tries to shake her head, as if to clear it, but it obviously doesn't work.

She points a shaking finger ahead of her, and I peer around her to see—

What?

"Is that my sister we're staring at funny?"

"I believe so."

"…Okay." Words do not express my bewilderment.

"To the History section?" she asks, managing to peel her eyes away for a second.

"I don't know, I think this is more interesting than Bleeding Kansas—

My words are taken from my mouth as she grabs the collar of my shirt and drags me down the aisle.

---

Three hours later I've got it!

"Ronan, Ronan, Ronan!!!!"

He looks up from the chick print as if immensely glad for the break.

"What?"

"Mistletoe."

"What?" he stares at me as if I'm insane.

"Are you insane?"

Apparently he felt the need to voice the opinion too.

That's just rude.

"No."

"It's terribly cliché."

"I'm aware."

"It's the middle of March."

"Exactly."

"…I fail to see where you're going with this."

I sigh a deep sigh.

"It's the middle of March and terribly cliché. Who would expect a Mistletoe attack in the middle of March? And who would expect something cliché out of _me_."

He appears to be thinking it over, "Well…you do have to be the most—

I raise both my eyebrows at him, seeing as mine seem particularly fond of the buddy system.

He immediately forces a smile, "_Unique _individuals I've ever met."

"Why thank you Ronan, how utterly kind of you."

He gives a shaky laugh. "Yeah…Where are we going to get Mistletoe in the middle of March though?"

I smile again, "You _are_ a wizard are you not?"

"…Yes."

"Well, it's Christmas somewhere."

"What?!" he cries.

I put our books on the shelves and grabbed him by the collar to drag his reluctant bum out. We pass Nita as we go.

"Hola, Nita!"

"Hola, Carmela," she calls back. She notices my Ronan dragging gesture, which he's none too happy about, and smiles ambiguously.

"What?"

"Nothing 'Mela, nothing at all."

Ironically enough, I'd much rather deal with Ronan for weeks than look at that smile for another second.

But dealing with Ronan doesn't seem to be as big a deal as it used to be.

Odd.

I shove him through the door, "Onward to an obscure planet!"

He only glared.

**I think I'm only now realizing how hard it is to write a DEVELOPING romance. Anyone who's read my stories (a select few, _highly loved_ people) know at least one character's feelings are usually there and firmly cemented in place.**

**Sorry it's so short! Still accepting song suggestions, if it helps you know my style, I'm currently rocking out to the Relient K Christmas CD. Hence Mistletoe inspiration.**


	6. That Dang Mistletoe

**That Dang Mistletoe**

A/N (Unhappy Squirrel Style): Gee, thanks Brianne, how wonderful of you to let ME figure out where the dang mistletoe is...Kinda short, I know, but how's that for a fast update huh?

---

I flip through page after page of a book as Carmela stares insistently at me. Sheesh! It's not that easy finding mistletoe in the middle of March, although I do have to say that I haven't really tried...

"Hey," I say just to break the silence. She doesn't bat an eye and continues to glare. It's a horrible idea, now that I think about it anyway. A slight bit of a pun, too. I shudder. I hate puns.

Slamming the book closed, I give her my undivided attention. Well...almost as Kit, the Soul Stealer walks into the kitchen, which we are currently residing. I can't exactly say walk as he's sprinting around, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Not Dairine and Roshaun _again?_

Yes, again, as the arguments ensue from the Rodriguez Living Room. Nita comes in about three seconds later, saying nothing. She only walks over to a cabinet to begin banging her head on the wood.

I look up at Carmela and nod. We walk off to the guest bedroom, which I have currently declared my own. After all, who would want it back when I'm doing an experiment that includes moldy socks, toast, and apples? I need to see which ferments first. So far, the apple is winning.

Carmela wrinkles her nose at the smell and sits in the only clean part of the room, the doorway.

Shutting my eyes in embarrassment, I tell her my observation. "Is there a planet called Mistle?"

Carmela looks perplexed, no, more constipated than perplexed. "Umm, do you know how horrible a pun that is?" She pinches the bridge of her nose and hangs her head in shame. Aw, how sweet of her. I'm going to hurt her.

"Yes, I know," I say, because I obviously did know. I was the one that thought of it after all. Now where was I? "But if there was a planet called Mistle, then that would be their toes that we need." I don't need anger management problems, not at all.

"I have a sad, sad feeling there is such a place," Carmela says, not much one for the irony. To be frank, neither am I. Then again, it would prove that the Powers are laughing at me.

"Let's check," Carmela says, chuckling. She picks herself off the floor and looks around the corner. Nobody was there.

She sneaks across the hallway and grabs Kit's Manual. That's nice, just take it off his desk why don't you? This, of course is exactly what she does.

She thrusts it into my hands, as she's not on the account that she's not as good as reading the Speech as me. I'm not being too snobbish about it, am I?

I scan the pages before flipping to the next one. "M," I mutter, "M."

Finally, I see the M's page. Running my finger over the list I stop at, "Mistle."

"That is just a horrible pun, horribly cliché too." Carmela shakes her head. I turn the page to the specified number. It has the picture of a tree on the very front of the section.

The tree seems very recognizable. I think I've seen it before. But I've never been to Mistle.

"Hmm," Carmela mutters, once again sounding like she's constipated. If you gotta go, then go, dang it! "That looks like Filif."

I snap my fingers. No really, I snap them. I didn't know I could do that! Well, now I can. I am extremely proud of myself right now.

"Hey, is he still here?" I ask, as Carmela knows these things. She nods, grinning evilly. I fear that grin now, it looks too much like my Literature teacher in Ireland.

"Okay, then," I say, thoroughly freaked out.

She grabs the Manual and runs back into Kit's room. She sets it back in the exact place, as there is a clean spot on the desk where it lays. He honestly needs to clean his room.

_Look who's talking?_

We decide to walk to Nita's house where the tree is currently staying. He's probably in a deep conversation with her dad. I swear, they talk more than Dairine and Roshaun, only their discussions are slightly more humane. Cough cough, ahem.

We turn the corner and pound on the Callahan's front door. We hear shuffling inside and soon her dad unlocks and opens said door.

"Hi, guys," he says, "What can I do for you?"

Carmela looks over his shoulder and points at Filif. Such an innocent little bush slash tree slash Mistlian. I think that's what they're called. "It's what he can do for us," Carmela says.

Filif gulps and goes into the backyard with us.

"Filif?" Carmela says.

"What?" he mutters back, thoroughly begrudged that we took him away from his wonderful conversation about fertilizer. I don't want to know.

"Can I look at one of your leaves?" she asks sweetly. Filif hesitates until she begins pleading, complete with the puppy eyes and quivering lip. How pitiful.

Slowly he nods, as if he just sold his life away. Perhaps he did. To what though, I don't know.

Anyway, Carmela takes one of his leaves...or at least tries to. Filif, the squirming tree, flinches and snickers at her touch. "That tickles," he says, giggling.

A laughing tree, now _that _is a sight to see. He calms himself down and Carmela picks a leaf again.

She motions for me to look. I let out a squeal of joy. Who was right? OH, ME! I take the leaf and pluck it off.

Filif screams from the pain. How a tree can scream is beyond me, but he pulls it off wonderfully, as my eardrums are pounding.

"Hey!" he cries. "That's like yanking out a piece of your hair!"

Carmela grins that horribly cynical grin of hers. "Can I do the honors?" she asks, malice dripping in her voice.

"Sure," Filif says and watches as Carmela advances on me. I'm sure that my eyes widened to about double their normal size right then.

I scream a little girl high pitched scream which is just too girly for a man like me. I run in the opposite direction, still clinging to the Mistletoe. "Hey," I cry, "I got you what you wanted, now back off!"

---

A/N: I am HORRIBLY, terribly sorry about that awful pun. I apologize and express my deepest sorrow for such an evil thing. If you take puns offensively, please, don't kill your favoritest squirrel. Please?


	7. Two Birds with One Stone

-1**A/N: So here's my update, finally. You know what I realized? Round Robins are easier to write and finish, I'm thinking, than a normal, One-Authored chaptered fic. But then, I can never update on time with those, and I have never actually finished one before, so that may just be me. At any rate, our plot is finally starting to take shape. Hoorah!**

**I own nothing because I am a miserable, poor person. Watch my emo tears fall. Woe is me. **

**Okay, not really. I'm fine with my crappy Laptop. Really. **

_Snap!_

My bubblegum rings in the air around us, and Ronan is quick to silence me.

"What? They aren't coming yet!" I whisper, too loudly for his liking. I roll my eyes and huff at him.

"Well, they're not! Dairine would have given the signal if they were." I point out. Now it's Ronan's turn to roll his eyes.

"But if they hear us from all the way from wherever they're coming from, the whole thing will be ruined!" he says. "So shut up!"

He is taking this way too seriously.

I fold my arms and stick my lip out into a pout, with is very hard to do, laying on one's stomach. Pouting works better whilst sitting or standing, but we can't afford to be that noticeable.

We are on our stomachs, on top of a staircase, which is right over top of a doorway. Between us, there is a sprig of mistletoe tied to a near-invisible string of wizardry that Ronan has constructed. Roshaun is poised outside, down the street from us, at the corner, where Nita and Kit will be walking past on their way back to our house. Roshaun will send a little spark of wizardry light to Dairine, who will whistle the tune of Yankee Doodle when the ball of light flies through the open window next to her. (What Dairine doesn't know is that Roshaun tweaked the coordinates a little to make the ball collide with the side of her head. I watched him change it, thought I don't think he knew I could read the speech.)

When Dairine whistles, it's our cue to check the string of wizardry over and make sure the rest of the setup is complete and correct. Then, once Nita and Kit come through the door, Ronan and I are going to lower the Mistletoe down so it is right above the doorway as Nita and Kit walk underneath it. Dairine is going to whistle provocatively and point to the mistletoe above their heads, and they will have no choice but to kiss! Mwahahaha!

Ronan thinks that this plan is too complex and why can't we just shove them into a room and hold them hostage until they pay our ransom. I said that that would be forced love, and love cannot be forced. He then wanted to know why we were going to stage a mistletoe kiss, and how is that not forced love? I told him it was different because we are not forcing them to do anything, only nudging very strongly, and that they could get away if they wanted, though I _would_ come after them in the long run, so it was better now than later.

He prompted to ask me why don't we dress as stealth ninjas then and wear black ski masks. He quickly regretted it though, seeing as how I spazzed out.

Apparently, I laughed my evil laugh out loud, because Ronan has a hand clamped over my mouth now and is looking at me strangely, with an eyebrow raised. I narrow my eyes at him, and he smirks, because he knows I can't do it. I would shoot my three-leaf clover tongue off right back at him, but with his hand clamped over my mouth, I'm not about to try. Who knows where that thing has been?

On the other hand, it would probably get him to take his hand off...

I stick out my tongue in my three-leaf clover, just for effect, but his hand doesn't move. Instead, his face gets a look of disgusted determination. I am foiled by Ronan, the One who Survived the Wrath of Carmela's Tongue.

Which was not meant to be seen in a suggestive manner in any way, shape, or form at all.

_Bow chika bowow_

Mind out of the gutter.

Suddenly, we hear a muffled curse, and some rather aggressive whistling of Yankee Doodle, signaling that Dairine has been bonked with the sphere of light and that Roshaun has just seen Nita and Kit walk into view of the house.

Ronan quickly removes his hand from my mouth and wipes it on the carpet below us, rather violently. Either my spit acts as a super adhesive that dries instantly and will not come off his hand for any reason whatsoever, or he's just overreacting.

While Ronan is busy, I check the spell over and he double checks, then we prepare the mistletoe for launch.

"I don't know, I think we did fairly well today." Kit says from the front door. We hear Nita sigh.

"I don't know, I think that those little alien life forms could be better off on another moon. This one seems to be resisting everything we throw at it!"

"I know, but moving an entire species to another moon? How do we know the conditions would be stable enough? I know the moon is small, but it's huge to them! That would be like making us humans move to another planet just because our ozone layer is starting to wind down." Kit explains.

Slowly, in the midst of their conversation, Ronan and I ease down the mistletoe until it dangles just over Kit's head, the taller of the two. Nita takes notice just before Dairine begins.

"Aww, kissy kissy!" she coos, walking past. "How cute!" Kit makes a face.

"Um, Dairine, why would you-" 

"Kit, did you know that there is a sprig of mistletoe dangling right above your head?" Nita points and Kit looks up.

"Well, so there is." he notes. "And in the middle of March, too. I wonder where Carmela ever found Mistletoe this late after Christmas."

"Aw, how'd you know it was me?" I whine, standing up and looking at Kit over the railing. He is standing with his hands on his hips, a bemused expression creeping across his face. Nita, however, looks less impressed.

"It's kind of obvious when your hand it sticking out with it." he says. I glare from my roost atop our stairs.

"But how could you know it was me? Why not Dairine or Ronan?" I suggest. One of his eyebrows raises too.

"Who else paints their nails pink with green tips to make them look like watermelons?" he asks. I stick out my tongue mockingly.

Tongue of Horrors strikes again.

"Carmela! Why would you do that?" she asks. Ronan suddenly stands up by my side.

"My idea. Sorry Nita." he says, not looking anywhere, and lying his butt off so bad that I'm tempted to whack him across the top of his head. Nita, however, seems to believe it, mostly.

"Ronan? You?" her face is disbelief. "You couldn't have planned out this entire thing." she says. Ronan looks sideways at me.

"Well, not everything..." he says. I try as hard as I can to not look as if this is the first time I've heard this. Emo Irish Boy Ronan, sticking up for Carmela, Girlish NonWizard, Beholder of the Tongue of Wrath.

Which has no dirty meaning whatsoever.

I look over at Dairine, who is leaning against the door frame, and I see an evil smirk play across her face. I am rather frightened by the sight of it. When one receives a look of Pure Scheming Evil from Dairine Callahan, one tends to feel the need to pee their pants.

She is plotting, I just know it.

Though what she's plotting, I can't tell.

"Well, now that that's over," Kit says, breaking the strong silence around us, "I'm going to get food. See you later, Neets." he says. Nita waves and heads toward the door. When it is opened, though, we see Roshaun standing in it, looking both bewildered and fearful at the same time. His legs are set wide apart, his arms out, like he's going to try and fly. Or gave up with jumping jacks halfway through.

"Roshaun?" Nita looks at him.

"I can't move." Roshaun says. Nita raises an eyebrow at him.

"Really, Roshaun, rollerblades?" she says. Honestly, I was expecting any word _but_ rollerblades.

"This little girl asked me if I wanted to try them when I asked her what they were. Said she had a better pair at home, and I could keep them!" Roshaun says with _the_ whiniest voice I have ever heard a guy use. And I live with Kit!

"So how did you get to the front door then?" Nita asks.

"Rolled. What else?" Roshaun states as if this is obvious. Nita twitches.

"Obviously. Hence, _roller_blades. How did you get up the stairs here?" she asks.

"Held on to the railing and walked." Roshaun says. Nita takes his hand and pulls him into our foyer, steadying him. Dairine's face is the ideal expression of amusement, and I don't blame her in the slightest.

"Well, practice makes perfect." Nita says right before she leaves the front door, giving him a hearty slap on the back.

Now, here's where I take the time to explain something smart. Friction is caused by two opposing forces rubbing together. The smoother the surfaces, the better the friction. If the world had no friction, nothing would stay put where it should. Rolling friction does a much better job of propelling objects than sliding friction does, and therefore makes things move faster, because the two objects that are touching are touching so little, it moves faster, because wheels are round.

Now, in accordance with Newton's Laws of Motion, an object at rest will stay at rest until acted upon by an outside force. Similarly, an object in motion will stay in motion unless acted upon by an outside force.

Keeping this in mind, it is now possible to understand that Nita, by smacking Roshaun on the back, propelled him forward, acting as the outside force acting upon the object at rest, Roshaun. Because of rolling friction, he gained speed, and because a wood floor has less traction than the outside asphalt, he would go faster. In order to stop himself, he would have to be acted upon by an outside force, which happens to be the door frame. Is it irony that Dairine is leaning in this door frame at this very second?

Yes.

Yes it is.

Your science lesson is over.

I feel smart.

Roshaun's arms swing in wild circles as he tries to keep his balance as he shoots forward. Ronan and I would probably be laughing far less were it not for the fact that Roshaun, a dignified King, is the one on out-of-control rollerblades.

Luckily, he manages to stop himself, catching himself with one arm on the doorway and, swinging around, (and nearly flattening Dairine in the process,) he only ends up smacking his face on the wall on the other side of the frame. He bounces back, and Dairine manages to breathe again, for his arm flattening her against the frame could not be wonderful on her air flow. Roshaun quickly manages to lose his balance again, and reaches out blindly for something to steady his fall, his eyes wide with terror that I have never before seen on his face.

Is it irony that Dairine happens to be the one object within his grasp he manages to cling to to attempt to keep his balance?

Yes. Yes it is.

Both of them fall to the ground, Dairine shrieking, and they land on the ground in a tangled mass of legs and arms and numerous other body parts.

Ronan and I look down, and our evil, conniving grins become identical. Ronan lowers the mistletoe onto the sprawled couple.

"Aww, isn't that just adorable?" I coo. Ronan leans over the balcony and puts his chin in his hands, staring in an idly mocking way that I am immensely proud of. He would never have done that before I came along.

"So cute! I'll make wedding arrangements now, if you want." Ronan offers. Dairine turns a shade of red to match her hair and can't push Roshaun off of her quickly enough.

"Again, I ask, what is a wedding?" Roshaun asks, deciding this is the best tactic, avoiding his klutz moment and quickly removing the rollerblades from his feet. Dairine swats the mistletoe away.

"Come on Roshaun, we're leaving." she says shortly, pulling him up and towards the door. He pulls his arm out of her grip.

"What if I don't want to?" he asks, folding his arms. Dairine imitates the stance.

"I'll tell you what a wedding is if you do." she bribes.

"Like I said, let's go." Roshaun says, this time the one pulling Dairine out of the house, who is still bright red. She doesn't seem too happy about her bribe working. I wouldn't e too thrilled either if I had to explain a wedding to someone like that. I turn to Ronan.

"Two birds with one stone." he says. I can't agree more.

"I say we celebrate with food." I tell him.

"I second that notion." he says, and we both rush to the kitchen.

**I know, I know, I'm sorry! I know this is Carmela/Ronan here, but I can't resist but put a _little_ Dairine/Roshaun in here. It's a habit, and I'll try to refrain next chapter comes my way, I promise. But do you see Carmela and Ronan? Working better together already! Ronan is even willing to put up with Carmela's Gargantuan Tongue of Doom (_Bow chika bowow..._) (Not a dirty meaning at all) in the face of an argument! Not the best of shipping hints, but I think it'll do for now. Things that move too fast make for a bad story. I've read enough to know. **

**Next chapter is Brianne. I can't wait! **

**Also, I think there's something in here that I want to use for a small oneshot. Faithful reviewers, check it out when I post it? You know my name. **


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